Bolting without warning from his chair, Sees-Faces immediately opened the fridge, and gave a feral grin when he saw the ketchup. Grabbing the bottle, he couldn't help but snicker somewhat at the flatulent noises it made as he gave his taters a liberal helping of ketchup.

Making sure to carefully use his fork in the homid way, as he'd seen not many homids appreciated him eating the taters like he wanted, he relaxed as the kinfolk elder settled down to tell his story.

_________________"Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, make sure that you are not, in fact, just surrounded by assholes."

- William Gibson

Josh wrote:

What? There's nothing weird about having a pet housefly. He smuggles cigarettes for me.

"Don' know how much ya'll know your 'Merican History, but in th' late 1800s th' US Gov'ment decided all Indians needed to be moved Out West." Soaring Eagle took a bite of the salad before he went on, giving Alex an appreciative nod for his efforts.

"Now, th' Uktena weren't fond of this idea, and here n' there we found ways o' hidin' out from the roundups. Problem was, many Kinfolk took hidin' too far, tryin' to be White. Joshua Tallman's mom was one of 'em, and so Joshua himself wed a white woman, Moriah, much to th' Elders' disgust."

"Now, Joshua wasn't strong in the blood, but he was still Kinfolk, so the Elders shunned him an' Joshua went off n' built him n' Moriah a place 'way from folks." Soaring Eagle cut his steak up with his potatoes, eating a few bites before going on.

"Now thing's went well at first, they had good land an' Moriah gave 'em two young'uns by th' time th' Spanish Flu came round. It took Joshua, damn thing seem'd ta hit Kinfolk like t'was meant to." The disgust at such a cowardly attack was clear on the old man's face.

"Tha' left Moriah wit' the two children an' no way o' living. Now, th' Uktena might o' tried ta help 'em, cause th' kids were Kinfolk, but they were still upset o'er the mixed blood. So, Moriah goes walkin' off her land to talk to some Yankees who were nosin' around, tryin' ta study the Appalachian Culture." He made the title sound ironic.

"Now.. t'was b'fore my time, so I can't say what she was sellin', but it was s'posed ta be somethin' Joshua's grandfather handed down. Problem was, afore the Uktena elders got word of this, Moriah'd already been turned down by th' Yankees and went back home."

Here, the old man looked down, shaking his head sadly. "Moriah was pure human, she had no clue wha followed her back home. A rovin' Uktena pack caught WyrmTaint, but was too late. Moriah's house was afire, wit' her in th' kids inside, an' a gang o' WyrmFollowers outside waitin' for 'em to run. They ran from th' Pack, which chased 'em down like th' Litany tol' 'em too... but not one o' 'em stopped ta help Moriah Tallman or her children." It was clear from his voice he found this as bad as the rest of the Uktena's actions. "Combat th' Wyrm where'er it dwells," the old Kinfolk quoted with quiet irony, despite the current company.

"Anyhow, By th' time Moriah's closest neighbors got there, t'was no way anyone was left alive in that fire. All they could do was keep it from spreadin', an' wait for the fire ta die out so they could bury th' dead." His face darkened, eyes closing in sadness. "It's said they n'er found th' girl... she was so small she jis' burnt up. Moriah n' th' boy, with what ashes they could find for th' girl, were buried next ta Joshua in th' yard. What're Moriah was tryin' ta sell vanished afore th' Uktena got back ta look for it."

"But... tha' ain't th' end o' it," Soaring Eagle said, once again taking a pause to eat some of his food. Like a good storyteller, he knew when to talk and when to let the audience wonder. "Moriah came back."

"Now, this I've seen. Iffen ya go up th' hillside ta the Tallman's place, strange things happen. Birds don't sing. Deer avoid it. Drive up that way, engines cut out. Flashlights die on ya." The old man gave them a small smile. "Course tha' means e'ery kid with an itchin' ta be scared goes up there jis ta see if it happens ta them." A rueful, guilty look crossed his face. "Well, I learnt not ta poke at thin's that poke back. Moriah's up there, still searchin fer something. Some say her kids, some say she's lookin for that item. Some say she's lookin' fer vengence on th' Uktena who left her ta burn."

Soaring Eagle paused again, then coughed loudly enough to make most audiences (one the edge of their seats from a ghost story) jump. "And tha's the tale I told ol' Jack, an' now I'm guessin' he's the one who sent ya'll to me so I could tell you. Now... did ya'll find wha' she's lookin' for, I wonder."

His face unexpectedly serious, Sees-Faces stared off into space as the Elder's words washed over him, eating his taters and steak almost mechanically. When the Elder finished his tale, Sees-Faces looked at Alex and Sophie meaningfully before looking at the Elder directly.

"I think so," he said quietly. "And I think I know what we have to do."

_________________"Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, make sure that you are not, in fact, just surrounded by assholes."

- William Gibson

Josh wrote:

What? There's nothing weird about having a pet housefly. He smuggles cigarettes for me.

Last edited by rhoenix on Tue Nov 16, 2010 9:01 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Alex put a steak on his plate and took modest helpings of potatoes and greens. He lightly salted the potatoes and stake and played close attention to Soaring Eagle's words. He ate carefully and slowly, savoring every bite as he listened. "Thank you very much," said Alexander at the end. "That may prove to be very helpful."

_________________It's not that I'm unforgiving, it's that most of the people who wrong me are unrepentant assholes.

"I think we did," said Sophie carefully. Midway through the story, she had somehow stopped remembering to eat, putting the pieces together. She wasn't exactly the most well-versed in how ghosts worked, but even she knew there had to be a catch.

"If she's still up there," she said, "then she's got to want more than just what she lost. A lot of people die badly, and a lot of people lose things they care about. Nobody can bring her kids back, and the Uktena who left her there are long dead. She wouldn't be satisfied with just a token from the past. After all this time... what do you think she still wants?"

_________________Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...

Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."

"All I kin say is she was askin' "Where is it, where'd it go?'" Soaring Eagle answered truthfully. "Now, what she'll do once she's got it, I can't say. If yer serious 'bout seeing her, I can tell you how to get there."

"We know she was looking for it," Sees-Faces said seriously, taking the time to form proper homid words as he spoke. As a result, his speech was slower and more deliberate than normal. "We can find out what else she wants when we talk to her."

With that said, he went back to his meal, chewing thoughtfully, staring sightlessly at the wall as he thought.

_________________"Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, make sure that you are not, in fact, just surrounded by assholes."

- William Gibson

Josh wrote:

What? There's nothing weird about having a pet housefly. He smuggles cigarettes for me.

Belatedly, Sophie reminded herself that spirits didn't have to make sense.

"How do we get to her?" she asked the old man. It was clear enough to her that there was only one way for this mess to end, and that was with them paying a visit to an old crime scene. At the very least, if human teenagers went up there and came back none the worse for wear, it was highly unlikely that the three of them would be in any serious danger.

Of course, two days ago she'd have thought the same about a pond, too.

_________________Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...

Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."

Sophie thanked the man as well, before returning to the car and opening up the trunk. Whatever was up on that hill was plainly not going to be happy to see them, at least not initially. If the locals had been using it as a place to scare themselves, then it was unlikely to be too hostile. However, Garou had a tendency to bring out the "big guns" from anything they encountered. A spirit that might content itself with scaring off drunken teenagers, might have a completely different reaction in mind if Garou showed up. Particularly given the history here...

Spiritualism was not her forte, at least not this this sort of spiritualism. The rumors about Glasswalkers were mostly crap, but it was true that the majority of the spirits that she had ever dealt with were Weaver spirits, not Wyld ones, and certainly not the ghosts of murdered women.

She had no clue what to expect, save that whatever it was had a decent chance of being unpleasant. Were this cyberspace, she'd have a myriad of defenses and such ready. It was not, and thus she'd have to make do with what she had.

The shotgun in the car trunk was already loaded, but she pumped out the shells, spilling them into the trunk before loading them back in one at a time, alternating one buckshot round with one round of silver buck. The silver rounds were unmarked, but instantly recognizable regardless, if only from the feeling of unease that came over her every time she picked one up. When finally she was finished, the Winchester was loaded with four rounds each of lead and silver buckshot, alternating one after the other. It was the closest thing she would get to being ready for anything.

The rest would come down to her gifts, claws, and brain.

_________________Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...

Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."

Waving to the Elder as he left the house, "Joe-Smith" walked with a smile on his face as he jumped into the farting Weaver box, hoping his chosen seat on the left didn't make its permanent indigestion worse.

After buckling himself in, he looked at Sophie and Alex meaningfully. "I am ready," he said in a steady voice.

_________________"Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, make sure that you are not, in fact, just surrounded by assholes."

- William Gibson

Josh wrote:

What? There's nothing weird about having a pet housefly. He smuggles cigarettes for me.

Last edited by rhoenix on Tue Jan 04, 2011 6:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.

"G'luck to ya. Stop by 'gain sometime... let me know what happened," Soaring Eagle said as a goodbye, and watched the small pack leave his side of the mountain.

The sun peaked out from behind the mountains, lower ridges allowing sunlight to reach the road, but as the Jeep turned and twisted along the backroads marked on the map, Helios slipped away, leaving clouds the color of dark bruises and fresh blood to mark his passage. The mountains stood bleak against the darkening sky, with Luna yet to rise above their heights. Nightbirds began to call, killdeer, swallows, and countless crickets, katydids, and other late autumn insects joined the loud chorus of darkness, singing to the stars starting to shine in the dark bowl above.

In that time between sunset and moonrise the pack found the overgrown rutted road, actually more of a wide path, marked out on the map. As Soaring Eagle had said, a good 4-wheel drive could make the trip, although the ruts were deep and would make the ride a challenge even for the Jeep's shocks. Here the trees had grown back in a thicket, brambles wrapping about their roots, and long heavy grapevines hanging like ropes from their canopies. Hemlock, witch hazel, and shockingly pale white birch lined the rutted way, standing like fenceposts with the brambles in between. Not a single root crossed into the road itself, or barred the way forward.

Her mix-loaded shotgun held in her hands, handgun in her holster, and laptop secured in its shockproof case and slung over one shoulder and under her arm, Sophie felt about as ready as she was likely to get. She wasn't sure if she should bring the computer at all, there was next-to-no chance that there would be anything to hack or interface with here after all, but she didn't feel good about leaving it behind. This whole area felt wrong, and if it came down to it, she wanted her equipment, her "badges of office" as they were, on her.

The shotgun felt good and heavy and substantial in her homid form, though in Crinos it would be less so, as her mass increased relative to the shotgun's. Still, it was something of a re-assurance as they approached a house haunted by the spirit of something that had no love for Garou.

_________________Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...

Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."

Like Sophie and Alex, Sees-Faces-In-Stars was nervous; unlike the two other members of his pack, he was also excited.

Getting lightly out of the farting Weaver-box with the others, he looked around for a few moments in his homid form. After feeling satisfied that there were no others around, his figure seemed to dissolve into his lupus form.

Once he had fur again, he delicately sniffed the air, looking at the roots and vines that seemed to be everywhere - except on the path. Moving closer, he gave another careful few sniffs, turning to Alex and Sophie once he was done. "I think we are expected," he said softly in the Garou tongue. "Shall we go?"

_________________"Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, make sure that you are not, in fact, just surrounded by assholes."

- William Gibson

Josh wrote:

What? There's nothing weird about having a pet housefly. He smuggles cigarettes for me.

Last edited by rhoenix on Wed Jan 05, 2011 6:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.

The rutted roadway twisted slightly with the curve of the mountain, the ruts forcing the human members of the pack to separate slightly as they walked to keep their balance on the uneven ground. The trees to the sides of the road grew closer together, their branches stretching out over the road, interlacing overhead into a leaf-shrouded tunnel. Branches creaked and groaned as if brushed by wind, although not a breath of air was felt moving. with each step, the Jeep slowly vanished behind them into the gathering night. As the groaning of the trees rose about them, the night-time singers dropped out of the evening song one by one. First the night birds cries, then the loud buzzing of the katydid, until finally the last cricket chirp faded into slow, uneven creaking of the branches overhead.

An invisible wind seemed to ruffle Sees-Faces' starlike fur of his lupus form as the three walked further into the forbidding woods. All too soon, the farting Weaver-box was left behind, swallowed up in the foliage behind them.

The forest itself seemed oppressive - darkly shaded, grey, and damp. This was a place where the Sun's face rarely reached. It was like a Weaver-tainted world, with no spirits around to his senses - captured, bound, or otherwise. This place did not feel like the Wyld. It did not feel natural.

His nose delicately sniffing, and his otherworldly senses open and receptive, he walked along with the others. If someone asked him to describe how he felt, he wouldn't have had the words to properly show how he felt both conflicted and excited, afraid and determined - all at once.

Nonetheless, each soft, padded pawstep of his was methodical and measured, moving step by step unto the wild, and toward the end of the tunnel.

Without warning, as all the animals of the forest seemed to vanish en masse, the breezes gently ruffling his fur abruptly stopped. A strong feeling of unease began to flow through him, though he didn't slow his pace.

_________________"Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, make sure that you are not, in fact, just surrounded by assholes."

- William Gibson

Josh wrote:

What? There's nothing weird about having a pet housefly. He smuggles cigarettes for me.

Last edited by rhoenix on Sun Jan 09, 2011 7:28 pm, edited 2 times in total.

The clearing was a rough half-acre at the top of the ridge. No trees grew inside, no brush nor bramble covering the ground. In the middle of the clearing was a lone testement to human inhabitance: a brick and stone chimney that reached like a finger to the darkened sky above. Around it, the weathered outline of the cabin could be seen, the stone foundation buried under sod, with the chimney the centerpiece.

No wind blew, yet the treeline rustled uneasily. No birds, no insects, no animals to make the slightest sound. It was as if the clearing was holding it's breath, waiting....

Sophie was barely whispering under her breath, the shotgun held uneasily in both hands. Her eyes darted back and forth, searching for movement or anything else of note. Over and over she repeated to herself the long lists of supernatural monsters that, by and large, stood no chance against a single Garou, let alone many. Among the supernatural, Garou were near the top of the food chain. She should have been roaring in rage and barging in like something out of a Lon Cheney movie.

It didn't help much.

_________________Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...

Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."

To most eyes, what stood before them was a simple, run-down ruin of a house. However, to the senses of a Theurge, it looked much as it should in the Umbra: a grey shadowed version of the house.

Unlike the Umbra however, where every building and structure is bound together with the Weaver's webs, this house had none. No Weaver-kin of any sort, no tell-tale cobweb signs of the Weaver's touch. By all rights, the house shouldn't exist as it was - and yet, there it was.

What disturbed the young Theurge even more was that he saw a woman's face, also in the shades of grey of the Umbra, looking at all three of the Garou as they approached - right before she screamed angrily in warning, the sound echoing from the ruins of the cabin.

Moving slowly ahead of the others by four careful paw-steps, Sees-Faces-In-Stars sat on his haunches, and began to softly howl, in a cadence and tone that was coaxing and reassuring. "We hear you, troubled one. We are willing to listen if you'd like to talk. We are here to help you set things right, and we bring you what is yours."

With that, a small sphere of Gnosis gathered on the tip of his nose, and flew gently to land in the doorway of the dilapidated house. Sees-Faces sat motionless, watching to see what would happen.

_________________"Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, make sure that you are not, in fact, just surrounded by assholes."

- William Gibson

Josh wrote:

What? There's nothing weird about having a pet housefly. He smuggles cigarettes for me.

Last edited by rhoenix on Thu Feb 10, 2011 11:57 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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